Dead To Right
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: What if 'Devil's Trap' had gone down differently and John had been a harder, colder person...What if the YED died that night, but not while possessing John, but instead, while possessing Dean...hard to explain properly, so please just read!


**Setting:** Set in the events/timeline of "Devil's Trap". This story is an AU.

**Warning:** John is OOC in this story…in fact, he's a real bastard in this…To me, it's kinda like how he might have turned out if he'd ended up a little more like Gordon...

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the boys, John or the YED…all of them belong to Kripke and company and I am merely borrowing them for the duration of this story.

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**Dead To Right**

Dean was working so hard to overcome the demon inside him but the bastard was just too damn powerful… His baby brother, his Sammy was pinned to the wall, helpless to stop the train-wreck of events unfolding before his very eyes.

John stood a little over an arms-length away from the Yellow-Eyed bastard that was wearing his eldest boy like a Kevlar vest…a sure-fire protective shield from John killing the sonofabitch, the demon probably thought…but the demon was wrong…John wanted him dead and it didn't faze him one bit that the demon was in his son's body. He was sure Dean would understand and would accept the sacrifice. Dean **_ALWAYS_** did what he was told, anyway. If John told him to do it, John just knew the boy would do it. A wicked smile turned on John's lips, his face tilting forward slightly into a menacing leer as he faced down the demon.

"Been waiting a long time to do this…" he growled out as he pulled the trigger. The Yellow-eyed bastard actually had the audacity to look surprised as the bullet slammed into his chest, light popping and flashing beneath the skin as he burned out of existence. A shrieking scream erupted behind him, and it took him a moment to realize where and who it was coming from. It was Sam, his youngest son, the one who had always reminded him of himself. Bull-headed and hot-tempered, just like him, but with far more of the softness and emotionality, that he knew came from his beloved Mary, then he was entirely comfortable with…

"**NO!!!** Oh God…oh God…no…Dean…" Sam panted, finally stumbling forward as the force that had had him pinned released him.

Sam stumbled forward on shaky legs, which gave out just before he reached his brother's body. He tumbled down then slid-crawled on his knees until he was looming over the lifeless body of his big brother. Dean's ever-familiar, often mischievous, moss green eyes were lifeless now, dull, no light left in them. He saw though, something that hit him like a wrecking ball. A tear track marred his pale face, glistening softly in the dim light of the abandoned cabin they had been staying in since they'd found their father. That soft, wet trail on his pale skin spoke volumes to Sam. Dean had known…been watching as his own father, the man he'd worshiped and obeyed to a fault since he was 4 years old...he had watched helplessly as that man had killed him, his own son. John hadn't even flinched or tried to find a different way to kill the bastard, he'd simply pulled the trigger and sacrificed his own son without an ounce of remorse or sympathy.

Sam was horror-struck…the events of the evening replaying themselves in his mind. The demon had been in John. Dean had known…he had felt something was off with their father and he had pulled the Colt on him. The demon had tried to play of his suspicions off for a moment, but he'd eventually owned up to Dean being right on the mark. Suddenly Sam and Dean had found themselves thrown back and pinned to the walls. The demon had been spiting all sorts of vicious barbs while in the guise of John, saying hateful, bitter things, hitting Dean straight in the heart with his piercing words. Sam knew his brother, knew how tender his heart really was, underneath his gruff, overconfident, laugh-in-the-face-death attitude. He knew that behind the ever-present walls his brother had built inside himself to contain the pain and misery he truly felt, his brother had always loved his family more than himself, loving them so much in fact, that he had scarcely ever had a life of his own because he had sacrificed any happiness he'd ever known to take care of the ones he loved. He'd been a father at 4, a soldier then, too. He'd been a teacher, a brother, a best friend, a nurse, a counselor, and everything else in between. Sam knew just how wounded Dean was hearing those harsh words from his hero…it was beyond devastating. It was soul crushing…

The thing was, the demon was having trouble controlling John though… Apparently, John was even more of a stubborn bastard then they'd ever realized, because one moment, John/Yellow-Eyes was ripping into Dean and the next moment, his eyes cleared and a look of absolute determination swerved onto his features. A bitter battle ensued, John in control for long moments then the demon, then back again. Finally, the demon tore out of John, slamming John to his knees for a moment as he spewed forth into the air overhead. As John sat panting for a moment, the demon smoke seemed to be at a bit of a loss, circling overhead for a moment before launching itself into Dean, tearing his head back and forcing itself down his throat. John had been up in an instant, grabbing for the Colt. Things began to play out as if they were in slow motion after that. Dean trying to throw off the demon like his dad, succeeding only in holding it off from his father, but it still had a hold on Sam. John leveled the gun, then fired. Everything went blank for a moment in Sam's mind before slamming back into him all over again.

His father had murdered his own son and he hadn't even blinked. His revenge-driven madness to kill the thing that killed his beloved wife had led him to care nothing for anyone who got caught in the crossfire along the way. Sam had been too stunned to do anything but gather his big brother up in his arms, clutching him tight to his chest as he floated in the bleak abyss of nothingness for God knew how long. Finally, he snapped, his body quivering from the overwhelming shock, the terrible numbness falling away, replaced by the horror and sadness and grief that had hovered, waiting for the chance to dive down upon him and rip him to shreds. Sam's breath hitched and the tears tumbled down and he thought he might have been rocking listlessly but he couldn't be certain and he really didn't _**care**_ if he was anyways. Nothing mattered. Not anymore. His big brother was dead and his own father was the one that killed him.

Sam felt a firm hand descend onto his shoulder. It took him by complete surprise. He whipped his head around to find John standing over him, a weary, but satisfied look on his face.

"It's over, son." John said gruffly.

Sam stared at him goggle-eyed.

"What?" he shrieked out.

"It's over. A life time of searching, and it's finally over." John said quietly.

"That's all you can fucking say? 'It's over'? You **_MURDER_** your own son without even fucking batting an eye and that's all you can say?" Sam screamed out hoarsely, enraged.

"Dean knew there'd have to be sacrifices in this life. He would've understood. He would have known that it was necessary." John growled out.

Sam couldn't process this. His father was honest-to-God standing there and telling him that killing the demon meant more then his own son's life and that Dean would have just accepted it and done what his father told him and let it happen. Sam realized now that his father had stopped thinking of Dean as his son, that he was relegated to nothing more than an acceptable casualty in this lifelong battle. Sam found himself feeling light-headed. His brother had become nothing more to the man than just another soldier, no longer a son, no longer a loved one, simply a soldier, a tool to be used… Sam felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. He worked hard to shove it down, not wanting to part from his brother even for a second for fear of what John might think of doing to him next. Sam's teeth clamped down, his jaw clenching furiously. He glared unrepentantly at his father. His blood was boiling, the rage and grief and heartache from his loss stirring the teeming brew inside in him until he thought he might explode.

"Leave." Sam ground out.

"Excuse me?"

"Leave. Right now, before I fucking kill you, you bastard." Sam growled.

"Sammy, come on. Dean-"

"Don't you fucking _**DARE**_ say his name!!! You don't ever get to say that name ever again!!! Get the fuck out of my sight before I blow you away!"

John made to speak again, his hand reaching out to touch Sam's shoulder again. Sam was on his feet in a second, he rage fueling a spectacular show of strength on his part as he rammed his father backwards into the wall, his fists wind-milling in a blur of heavy blows slamming down onto any part of John's body he could reach. John was too stunned at first to respond, but soon enough, he was swinging back. Sam's rage-fueled mindset won out, though and before he realized what was happening, he had his father on the ground in a choke-hold.

"Don't you ever fucking talk to me! Not ever again! Do you hear me?!?" Sam screamed as he accentuated his words by slamming John's head into the ground.

"Sammy…" John wheezed.

"Get up, walk out that door and never, ever come back. Do not even _**THINK**_ about taking the Impala, either. I will shoot you were you stand if touch one single, Goddamned thing of Dean's, do you understand? Am I making myself clear?" Sam said, his voice a venomously low growl.

Sam pulled himself off, standing up, his whole body shaking with rage as he glared down at John Winchester. John pulled himself up, standing close to the door. He slung his jacket on, alternating between staring at the door and his youngest son.

"Son, look…" he began.

"No. I don't have a father…not any more…"

John nodded slightly, his head dropping slightly in defeat. He walked out the door without looking back. Someday, he hoped Sam would understand. He was sure that Dean would have accepted what happened if their roles had been reversed, but nothing was to be done about it now. He'd finally done what he promised so long ago. He was free.

Sam all but collapsed after the door closed. He drew his brother's lifeless body in tight and held on, not able to fathom doing anything else. He wept silently as he tried to contemplate a life without his big brother at his side. Nothing but bleak misery shone through his thoughts. He'd never had to think about Dean not being there. Even at Stanford, he'd known his big brother was merely a phone call away if he needed him. Now, he had nothing. Not his father (who was that in name only, as it turns out), not the man that had really been his father, his brother, his best friend in the world…his rock that tethered him to this existence, kept him sane and whole. Sam was at a complete loss as to how he was supposed to go on when he had nothing left to live for anymore…

**TBC**…*maybe*….

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**A/N:** Okie Dokie!!! New story for y'all!! I don't know where I'm going with this, I may or may not continue it...idk...In case you haven't noticed, I've been in an angsty mood lately,....Sorry about that. This just popped in my brain and I couln't get it back out again!!!! Anyhoo, I have a couple of other stories and chapter updates written but not typed yet, too, so I'll be hopefully able to get those up and running soon, too. Thank a billion :)

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